Where Have You Been?
by AntiCoffin
Summary: A multi-linear story centered on the Schuyler Sisters and their adventures in Paul Revere University as they try to figure out life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. College AU
1. Chapter 1

Angelica strutted down the campus, flanked by her two sisters. Their parents followed close behind. Their father glared at the multitude of boys who were staring in interest. At first look, no one would guess that they were even remotely related, let alone triplets. Their parents couldn't have kids, so they had to adopt, but despite their many differences, visible or not, they could not be closer. Eliza, with her bright attitude and general sweetness, helped to balance out Angelica's intensity and Peggy's reserved nature. She wasn't the most outgoing person, and preferred the company of her sisters to strangers.

A boy who seemed to be studying on a bench looked up and, true to form, Angelica flashed him a dazzling smile. He blinked in surprise, people were rarely that friendly, but eventually returned her smile, then yelped at her father's stormy countenance. Peggy smiled, and rolled her eyes. She couldn't understand how Angelica was so open with other people, but it amused her nonetheless.

"What are you smiling about?" Angelica chimed brightly.

"You." Her sister offered a confused smile. Peggy explained. "You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Smiling at strangers," Eliza laughed softly.

"Everyone does that!"

"No, they don't," her father grumbled. Angelica politely chose to ignore him.

Peggy shook her head. "You're not everyone."

"Well, I am pretty extraordinary."

Peggy chuckled. Angelica had a bit of an ego, but it was well deserved. She'd graduated as valedictorian, and excelled at almost everything, save for drawing. She was _terrible_ at drawing. Peggy studied the people who would could be her future classmates. An energetic girl was chattering energetically to somebody, who looked very anxious to leave. Some boys were playing a very dangerous game of catch with their textbooks. Peggy sighed. _People are so strange._

"Here it is," Angelica murmured. "Tawney Hall." A red-bricked building loomed in front of them, guarded by stone lions. The sisters glanced at each other, making a promise. _No matter what, family comes first._ The trio hugged their parents, promising to look both ways, eat their vegetables and _don't talk to boys._ Bound together by that oath, the trio ascended the steps towards their destiny, suitcases clacking all the way.

The sisters huddled together at the bulletin board, ignoring the bustling mass of fellow freshmen. Angelica perused the wall of paper and thumbtacks, searching for the room assignments.

"Here they are!" Peggy tapped a delicate finger on a light pink sheet of paper, squinting as she tried to read the tiny print. "Angelica Schuyler, Eliza Schuyler, room 132." The two exchanged a look, excited but at the same time, apprehensive. Peggy was considered the baby of the family, and they were loath to let her be by herself.

Peggy kept on reading. "Peggy Schuyler, Theodosia Prevost, room 134" Peggy turned to them, grinning. "At least I'll be right next to you guys!" Eliza released a small sigh of relief. She knew it was ridiculous, but she tended to be a bit overprotective of Peggy, acting more like her mom then her sister. Really, she was everyone's mom.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Angelica started towards the door, already planning her wall layout. "Let's get unpacking!" Eliza scrambled after her, startled by her sudden change of direction and Peggy followed close behind, calling for them to wait up.

* * *

"Wait!" Alexander called. By some miracle, the bus heard him above the din of New York, and paused at a street corner. He lugged his suitcase at top speed, which is to say, not very fast. _Why am I so weak?_ The suitcase was a clunky, practical thing, built more for functionality as opposed to fashion. In it, Alexander had packed everything he'd ever owned, as well as a couple of gifts from neighbors wishing him well. As in, the entire town. As a result, Alex was stuck with a suitcase which weighed a billion tons.

A familiar hum reached his ears, and Alex stared in dismay at the bus that was now driving into the distance. "Dammit!" he shouted. He almost made it. Now he had to hail a taxi. A quick look in his wallet told him that he'd most likely be able to afford the rates, but might not eat lunch today.

"Are you alright?" a voice questioned. Based on his guttural r's, Alex identified it as French.

"No," he whined. "I just got off the plane and if I don't find a ride, I'll be late for move-in day for college." The deadline was noon, and by Alexander's estimate, it was already ten-thirty.

"Oh? Which _collège_?" The man smiled genially, and Alex found himself warming to this amiable stranger.

"Paul Revere University."

The stranger's eyes lit up with recognition. "I am going there too!"

Alex grinned, then he noticed the distinct lack of suitcases the man seemed to have. "Where are your bags?" He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. His mother had always warned him about strangers, telling horror stories of little boys like himself who were kidnapped and forced into slavery. It had terrified him as a child and made him wary as an adult. He braced himself, ready to sprint if the man made any sudden moves.

The man just laughed, light-hearted and easy. "I live in an apartment near the campus. I moved in one week ago." Alex clutched his bag closer to his person, still leery of this genial man, but accepted it. For now.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette."

Alex blinked at the length of the name. There was no way in hell he was going to remember all that. "How about I call you Lafayette and you call me Alex?"

" _D'accord,_ " he nodded, grinning all the while.

Really, it would have been rude if Alex didn't grin back. So he did. "Do you know how to hail a taxi?"

* * *

Jefferson sighed, relaxing in his apartment. His parents weren't going to come overseas until next year, so he was on his own.

"It's business," his father had said. "You understand, right?"

"Yes," he'd said. And he did. It didn't take the sting off though. He looked out his window, down at the campus below. Parents laughed with their kids, lugging suitcases and attempting to park overloaded minivans. Jefferson got to avoid that hassle. He'd moved in a week ago. It didn't take long, and he'd met some fairly nice tenants. Still, it was a lonely homecoming.

He straightened up, shaking his head. He wasn't completely alone. According to the college's Twitter, they were having a mixer for incoming freshmen tonight. Maybe he could make some friends.

 _Not maybe,_ he told himself. _I will._ With that in mind, Jefferson settled into his bed, setting his alarm for later that night. "Nothing like a nap," he murmured.

* * *

Theodosia Bartow was far too tired for her job. As RA, it was part of her duty to make sure incoming freshman felt welcome. That took a whole lot of patience and a whole lot of pep, precious luxuries at this point. She'd been doing this job since nine in the morning, dealing with annoyed parents and even more annoyed students, all of whom were anxious to run amok. It was taxing, to say the least.

"Excuse me?"

"What?" Theodosia was at her wits end. Her arms were burning from lifting boxes and her cheeks hurt from all her forced smiles. Through some miracle, she managed to grace this poor soul with a manic grin.

The boy was obviously a freshman, but he looked much more mature. His eyes were brown, almost black, and Theodosia had a faint recollection that they were old eyes for such a young face. Right now, they were staring at her warily, put off by her threatening tone. "Obviously, you're busy. I'll ask someone else."

"No, ask." Theo tried to put on a better face. It wasn't his fault, and he seemed nice enough. "I'm here to help anyway."

"Do you know the way to the library?"

"Yeah, down this hallway, then take a right and a left." The boy smiled gratefully, though it wasn't very warm, and started down the hallway. There was something very solemn about the way he walked, and Theodosia realized she'd never met anyone who seemed so lonely. "Hey!" The figure stopped, confused by her outburst. Theo took his pause as the opportunity to catch up, footsteps thudding in the carpet. "Let me walk you."

"You don't have to."

"It's my pleasure," she grinned. The silent boy stared at her warily, then shrugged. It was a small victory, but Theodosia took it. They walked in silence the whole way to the library, save for the random sneeze or two. Eventually their trek ended and the duo was forced to part ways. Theo frowned. She didn't want to end their conversation like this, especially because they hadn't started one.

"Are you going to the mixer?" After a few seconds riffling through her bookbag, Theo pulled out a bright blue flyer. It looked fairly tacky, with its bright white text and comic sans, but it got the message across. Tawney Hall was hosting a small party for incoming freshmen, just to help them make some friends on campus. It was actually her idea. Back in her first year, she had been pretty lonely. It seemed that by the time classes started, everyone already chosen their friends. Even her roommate had people she preferred. Needless to say, it was a misery, and she'd rather no one else went in like that.

"I'm not one for parties." The boy shrugged. "Besides, classes start in a week, and I'd rather be prepared."

"Try it. You might have fun." Theodosia handed him the flyer, smiling genuinely for what felt like the first time that day. "What's your name?"

"Aaron." He hesitated, as though unused to people making inquiries into his own person. "Aaron Burr."

"Theodosia Prevost. See ya around."

The boy slipped into the library, but not before he flashed her a faint, but very real smile.


	2. Chapter 2

The bell dinged as Angelica strolled inside, breathing in the warm atmosphere of coffee and chai. She'd struck up a conversation with one of the upperclassmen on her floor, and they had recommended the Caribou Castle as the premiere coffee shop on campus. So far, it was living up to the hype. It had a simple design, a main desk at the front of the café with a mounted caribou head hanging over it, wearing a little crown. Angelica chuckled. _Very clever._ The rest of it was just various tables of alternating sizes and types placed in around the checkered tile floor. It gave it a bizarre but comfortable feel, like a fuzzy Christmas sweater with little reindeer on it: cute, and a little weird. She entertained herself in line by trying to find all the different kinds of tables, when she saw a figure with a very interesting puff of hair.

The figure had his back facing her, but what a nice back indeed. He was wearing a dark green waffle shirt, and a pair of boyfriend jeans. Angelica spared a glance towards his butt, and nodded, liking what she saw. Apparently, she wasn't the only one, because she noticed that he was surrounded by women who were all giggling outrageously at something he said. _Somebody's popular with the ladies,_ she thought. The man turned to whisper something to the brunette on his right, and Angelica gasped, earning a concerned look from some of the people in the line.

Sitting in the midst of this throng of women was the grand asshole himself, Thomas Jefferson. He'd been her tormentor all through her childhood, pulling her hair, teasing her on the playground, shooting spit balls, but Angelica paid him back blow for blow. Eventually their rivalry evolved from childish pranks to actual achievement. If he became the star quarterback, she made sure that she became head cheerleader. If she got the female lead in the school play, Jefferson managed to ensure that he played opposite to her. They both made the honor roll, excelled at the piano, even joined the French club. They did nearly everything together, each striving to beat the other, but then Jefferson had shipped out to France their junior year. She thought she'd never see him again.

The person in front of her shuffled away, coffee in hand, and Angelica took his place, ready to make her order.

"One hot chocolate, please."

The barista raised an eyebrow at the order's simplicity, but recorded it anyway. Angelica always ordered hot chocolate as her first drink in a new café. It helped her get a feel for the quality she should expect. "Name please?" he prompted.

"Angelica."

The man popped a cap off a Sharpie and scrawled her name on the cup. He retreated back to the wall of complicated levers and bean names, and within minutes he had returned, holding her steaming hot chocolate in one hand. Armed with her scalding drink, Angelica made her way over to her fluffy haired rival. She gestured to the women who previously held his attention. "I didn't know you were starting a harem."

Jefferson spared her a glance before dismissing his pack of admirers. "I'm sorry ladies, but it seems I have a heckler to deal with. Why don't we continue this conversation over dinner tonight?"

The trio giggled. "Okay," the brunette agreed. The gaggle eventually made their way to the door, and Angelica slid into the seat across from Jefferson.

"Do you even have their numbers?"

"Nope."

Angelica rolled her eyes. "So what are you doing here?"

"I go here. You?"

"Same. Full academic scholarship." She took a slow sip. _Nice chocolate,_ she noted.

"We're both here on a scholarship then."

"I guess so. What are you majoring in?"

" _Double_ majoring," he drawled. "Political Science and Economics"

"Well, isn't that strange?" _Two can play at that game._ "Political Science and International Relations. I'm going to be a diplomat."

He laughed. "Can you even speak another language?"

" _En fait, je peux." In fact, I can._

" _Juste un? Je suis impressionné!" Just one? I'm impressed!_

She could almost taste the sarcasm in his voice. _I forgot, he actually lived in France._

" _No necesito tu actitud. Usted sólo hablan francés e inglés." I don't need your attitude. You only speak French and English._

He raised an eyebrow, obviously amused at whatever game they were playing. " _Cuidado de añadir español a la lista?" Care to add Spanish to the list?_

Angelica couldn't fight the grudging respect she felt towards him. Languages took a while to learn, though really, why was she surprised? Jefferson would do nearly anything to beat her. _Time to pull out her ace._

" _Mimi nilikuwa na wazo ungekuwa mwerevu." I had no idea you were so smart._ Angelica wished she had a camera on her. _Oh wait._ She whipped out her phone and snapped a photo of Jefferson's astonished face.

"What?"

"Swahili. It's a common language across Africa." With a small toss of her hair, Angelica flounced out of the café. _Angelica – 1, Thomas – 0._ She drank her hot chocolate, enjoying the warm feeling of victory blooming in her chest.

* * *

"Thomas is here?" Eliza was ecstatic. Even though Thomas had pestered Angelica for most of her life (or so she said), Angelica never seemed really mad about it. In fact, her eyes lit up whenever she talked about Thomas. And she talked about him a lot; it was almost unhealthy. Deep in her heart, Eliza was almost certain the Angelica really liked Jefferson, though she wasn't going to admit it. Maybe she could set them up, now that he was back in the states.

"Yeah, he probably came just to spite me." With a small pop, Angelica uncapped a highlighter. Even when there was no summer work, Angelica studied. Preparation never killed anyone, as their father liked to say.

 _Or it's fate,_ Eliza mused, but she wisely kept that thought to herself and continued braiding her sister's hair. "Well, it's not like you'll see him. The campus is huge."

Angelica nodded, uncapping her highlighter and circling some random factoid. "Except we're both majoring in Political Science."

Eliza gasped in mock horror. "No!"

"That's what I—wait." Angelica glared at her sister. "Are you mocking me?"

"Nope," Eliza deadpanned. "I sympathize with your plight on the deepest emotional level."

Angelica sighed, but Eliza could see the small smile creeping on her face. "You're a jerk, you know that?"

"I know," Eliza smiled. "But you love me all the same."


	3. Chapter 3

_Oh dear._ There were so many people. God, there were people everywhere. _I shouldn't be surprised, this is a party._ Her sisters had dragged her off to some mixer so she could "make friends", even though Peggy would've been perfectly fine reading in her dorm. But it was two against one, so Peggy was here. It wouldn't have been so bad, if it wasn't for the fact that her sisters quickly got distracted by their own endeavors.

Angelica had been first. Some girl had come over and they'd struck up conversation about feminism in the modern stage. At first Angelica tried to include her sisters in the discussion, but they were slowly phased out. Eliza hadn't left so quickly. She'd tried to stick with Peggy, but the other Schuyler could see her eyeing a boy in the crowd. He didn't look all the special, though he was kind of cute. "Go to him," Peggy had teased. She wasn't going to let her sister miss out on true love, not on her account. Eliza hadn't wasted anytime, though she was quite flustered that Peggy pointed him out ("I wasn't staring," she'd said. "I just…happened to look in his direction. A lot.").

"Hey roomie." Peggy jumped, then relaxed as she realized who it was.

"Hi Theo." Theodosia seemed nice enough, though they didn't really get to talk because she'd been helping other students move in.

"I like your dress," Peggy blurted. Theodosia had changed out of her "official" polo into a simple orange sundress that made her look light and free.

"Thanks." She smiled. They lapsed into awkward silence. _What do you say to someone you barely know?_

"What's your major?" _Okay,_ Peggy congratulated herself. _That's a decent conversation starter._

"Architecture." Theodosia smiled. It was a comforting smile, and Peggy immediately felt more at ease.

"Why'd you choose architecture?"

"At first, I was going to major in arts, but looking at all the talent, I was afraid I wouldn't make the cut." Theodosia sighed, but her face immediately brightened. "That's okay though. Architecture is a lot of fun, and I'm good at it." Peggy must have looked bored, because Theodosia immediately backtracked. "Gosh, I'm sorry. Rambling about all of this. It's just been a really stressful day and-""

Peggy gently patted her shoulder. If there was one thing she'd always been good at, it's comforting people. "its fine," she smiled. "Being an RA is tough. If it was me, I probably would have bitten the head off anyone who dared to approach."

"I almost did," Theodosia laughed, a light, sparkling sound. "There was this boy–"

The pair jumped as a loud crash reverberated through the room. Peggy glanced fearfully about the room, trying to locate the source of the noise. _Ah._ A table had been overturned and four students were brawling on the floor. At least, she thought it was brawling.

"Lafayette, you son of a bi-" The figure let out a strangled sound of laughter and pain as another, who Peggy presumed to be, Lafayette, gave him a noogie, grinning the whole time. He shouted something in French, looking very pleased with himself. _Weirdo._

Theodosia sighed. "I'm sorry Peggy, but duty calls." She stormed over to the laughing mass and, after a considerable struggle, managed to separate them. As she talked with the boys, Peggy couldn't help but admire her confidence. Every word she said commanded respect and soon the group looked equal parts ashamed and embarrassed. Theodosia glared at them and dragged the freshmen down the hall and away from the party, probably to the dean's office by the looks of it. None protested.

The party quickly resumed, though Peggy noted that it was a lot more rowdy. There was a small dance circle, and a couple of students seemed to playing a game that involved slapping. _Oh my._ Peggy wandered through the room, trying to ignore the uproarious laughter and pulsing music. All she really wanted was a nice quiet corner where she could read. Preferably away from all these loud, intimidating people.

Then she saw it. The exit. Peggy didn't have to stay. She could leave this awkward nightmare, find the library, and maybe find someone a bit mellower to bond with. Perhaps she'd even find Theodosia, though the RA would probably ask why she was leaving. Can you get in trouble for leaving a school event? Peggy didn't think so, but she wasn't eager to find out. _Just avoid Theodosia and slip out undetected. Like a ninja._ Peggy glanced down at her clothes. _A yellow ninja? A Power Ranger then._ With that in mind, Peggy Schuyler set out on her mission, bobbing and weaving between the masses.

The Power Rangers theme song began to play in her head, clashing with the mellow bass around her. She and her sisters, to celebrate graduation, had decided to have a Nickelodeon watch-a-thon, giggling and joking all through the night. Of course, they had crashed the next day, but it was worth it. Peggy smiled at the memory. The grin widened when she neared the exit. The doors were propped wide open, leading into the wonderfully empty hallway. If she could just squeeze through this last group of people, she'd be home free.

* * *

Lafayette loved parties. There was nothing more gratifying then celebration, be it with friends or strangers. There was just something about the atmosphere, the energy, the pulse of the music. His mother had always told him that he was never meant to stand still, and she was right. Lafayette buzzed about the room, eager to meet and greet everyone, though he'd eventually found his place with some boys who were now trying to explain…football? That was the name of the sport, but it sounded nothing like the football he knew. Alexander, a fellow immigrant, was just as baffled.

"Why do they use their hands?" the Nevisian asked.

"Because the ball isn't round!" the burly one bellowed, exasperated beyond belief. "It's like a diamond!" Mulligan was a very loud character, with a loose tongue and even looser morals. In his company, Lafayette had already heard at least fifteen different swears and twice as many innuendos. And he was talking about "football" the entire time.

"Like rugby," Laurens piped. Lafayette nodded. Now that he thought about it, American football was very similar to rugby, except with more gear and regulations (which made it less fun, in Lafayette's opinion). John Laurens was a bright young man, with as much bounce as his curls. Freckles dotted his face, giving it an impish look, especially when he smiled. Right now though, he and Hercules were now arguing over the merits of rugby over football or vice versa.

Suddenly, Mulligan lunged and wrapped a massive arm around Lauren's throat. "Rugby is for pansies!" he cackled. Laurens struggled, but he was enjoying himself, his wild laughter joining with Mulligan's. Lafayette's heart swelled. Truly, there was no expression of friendship purer than mild violence.

"I would like to formally disagree with that statmen- Herc!" Alex yelped. The larger man had absorbed Alex into his armpit, effectively cutting off whatever brilliant argument he had. "Lafayette! Help me!"

To the smaller boy's terror, Lafayette did help. By tackling the entire group to the floor.

* * *

The four sat on the stairs, effectively banned from the mixer after their antics. None of them minded though. They were no stranger to trouble, though they'd always faced the consequences alone. But now, they had a group of like-minded lunatics. Most people believe that good friends keep you out of trouble. This is generally true, but best friends tend to join you for the ride. As the group burped and cackled into the night, Lafayette decided that they were most likely the latter.

"Wanna go skinny dipping in the fountain?" someone suggested.

Yup. Definitely the latter.


	4. Chapter 4

Classes started tomorrow. And Alex couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned, desperately trying to find that one comfortable spot in the bed and knowing he never would. Sleep never came easy to him, and the jet lag only made it worse. He glanced at his alarm. _3am._ He had five hours until his first class. Five hours to be productive. As delicately as he could, Alex clambered down from his bed. Sadly, this was still pretty loud. Hey, Alex was small, but he sure as hell wasn't graceful.

He stumble through the darkness, crying out as he stubbed his toe on the corner of his desk. "Shit!" he shouted. His toe throbbed, and with some effort, he limped to his desk. With a click, he turned on the light, wincing at how bright it seemed. The whole point of Alex "stealthily" climbing out of his bed was to not wake up Aaron.

Alex turned in his swivel chair, trying to gauge Aaron's level of sleep. He looked peaceful. Alex envied that. Still, the man hadn't done anything to him, so Alex wasn't going to ruin his sleep. Not on purpose, anyway. As gently as he could, Alex pulled out his laptop. Despite the fact that school hadn't officially started, there was still work to be done. He'd agreed to some freelance writing work, an essay about the global warming. Easy enough. And, they were paying some big money for it, about $100 dollars. _Probably some rich exchange student,_ he thought resentfully. Alex was a huge advocate for hard work, and resented people who paid their way. Still, he wasn't complaining. Alex could write and though he'd found a job at the local café, extra money never killed anyone. Theses flitted through his mind, arguments and defenses for what was going to be a prolific essay. Five hours? He could do this in two.

* * *

"The hell?" An alarm was blaring, interrupting Aaron's very peaceful dream about juggling in the circus. If he hadn't had a trust fund, Aaron would have joined the circus a long time ago. Certainly, it would have been a lot less stressful than rooming with Alex. Barely five words had been exchanged, and Aaron already knew he was trouble. What kind of person walks in, soaking wet, at eleven at night? Hamilton, apparently. The current situation was just another affirmation of what Aaron already knew: Alexander Hamilton was fucking _crazy._

He also mumbling deliriously while pacing back in forth. His hair was a mess, and there was a questionable stain on the floor that wasn't there last night. A cup of coffee sat on the table, and Burr had a feeling that it was not his first. According to the clock, it was a little past 6am. Based on the bags under his eyes, Alex had been awake long before.

"Did you sleep? At all?"

More mumbling.

Burr sighed. "Alexander."

He stood still, though the small boy did fidget quite a bit. "Hmm?" Despite his obvious fatigue, his eyes were focused, and Burr had a feeling that no matter his appearance, Alex's mind was as sharp as ever.

"How much did you sleep?"

"I didn't."

Burr frowned. "Why?"

"I couldn't."

"That's not healthy."

Alex rolled his eyes. "I'm fine." He swayed slightly, then resumed pacing, occasionally pausing to sip his coffee. It was like Burr never spoke at all.

"I'm going to shower," Aaron declared. Anything to escape this awkward situation. He grabbed his towel and was halfway out the door, when Alex grabbed his wrist.

"Wait!" Alex was clinging to his arm, feverishly yammering about one thing or the other. "Before you go, could you read this?" He gesture to his laptop, which was open to some essay. "I need a second opinion."

Aaron crinkled his nose, catching a whiff of the unsavory smell of sweat and sleep deprivation. "Only if you go shower."

"So, is it good?" Alex looked very refreshed, and in his hand he held another steaming cup of coffee. He sipped it often, clutching it like it was his lifeline. Aaron idly wondered if he had caffeine flowing through his veins instead of blood.

"When did you write this?"

"At night."

Aaron raised an eyebrow. He had severely underestimated Hamilton. Even when operating at fifty percent, his writing rivaled Aaron's. Of course, it was much too flowery for his taste, despite the almost lyrical flow of the sentences.

"It's good." Alex beamed, smugness emanating in waves. "But," Burr continued. "It's too long. There's a lot in here that you don't need. Extraneous details, if you will."

His roommate's expression went from surprise, to outrage. "None of my details are extraneous–"

Aaron kept his tone carefully even. "You talked about quantum mechanics. In an essay about _global warming._ "

"It ties in eventually, if you keep reading it!" He was riled now, and Aaron could feel himself reacting, mimicking his prideful anger. He was only trying to help. Why was Alex being so touchy about it?

"That's the thing! Your arguments should be clear, not full of logic that requires a thousand explanations to understand!"

Aaron grabbed his towel and left before his infuriating roommate could reply. Burr was almost one-hundred percent sure that Alex wouldn't listen to anything he had to say. Listening to advice meant admitting that someone had a better idea than him, but _obviously_ that was impossible, because nobody was better than Alex _._ Burr scoffed. _Arrogant, loud-mouthed asshat._

* * *

Angelica hated 8am. While signing up for classes her mother had warned against it, but Angelica had brushed it off. She had a lot that she wanted to do, some of it didn't even pertain to her major, and she was willing to sacrifice some sleep to do it. _Besides,_ she reasoned. _High school starts way earlier than that, every single day. She could handle it._ Never had she been more wrong.

She sat down in her seat, hands cradling a thermos full of hot coffee. They were shaking slightly, though she wasn't sure if it was from the fatigue or the caffeine. She took another sip, hissing as it burned her tongue, but eventually the pain was replaced by a warm feeling in her stomach. _Maybe I can make it through this class._

A Latino boy, sporting a small goatee, sat down next to her. As soon as his bag hit the floor, he turned to her, eyes gleaming. His eyes were focused, and as he looked at her Angelica felt like the only person in the room. They were unwavering in their intensity, making her feel warm all over.

"What's in the cup?" It was such a simple question, but he actually looked interested in the contents of her thermos.

Angelica swished the thermos in reply. "Just some coffee. The Caribou Castle place has pretty nice coffee, but sometimes it's better to make your own."

"Do you go there often?" His dark eyes bored into hers, and Angelica almost wanted to squirm away from the directness of his gaze.

"I plan to. The place is really…" she paused, searching for the right word to describe the café.

The boy chuckled. "Eccentric? Yeah, I thought so too." He leaned in towards her and whispered conspiratorially. "You know that stuffed caribou head?"

Angelica, startled by his sudden proximity, nodded.

The strangely compelling man cleared his throat dramatically. "It's actually a moose."

Angelica blinked for a few seconds before a loud laugh erupted from her mouth. She didn't know what she had been expecting, but the statement was so simple, so underwhelming that it was almost comical. "You mean to tell me that a moose took over the Caribou Castle in a coup d'état?"

He nodded solemnly, though she could see a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Angelica took a deep breath, though a giggle escaped her, and matched his comically serious face. "And how did you discover this plot?"

"It's kind of hard to hide something that big from your employees. The name's Alex," he winked. "Feel free to tip when you see me."

"I'm –"

"Angelica?" Angelica whirled around.

"Thomas." She sighed. Of course he had to be here. With a smug smile, he plopped himself in the desk next to her.

"Nice to see you too."

The door slammed and Angelica could've sworn she'd heard Jefferson squeak. Standing at the front of the room was their professor, a bald, middle-aged man who was in a decidedly bad mood. "I'm Professor Washington, welcome to Political Theory I," he thundered. "No homework this week, just a debate on Monday on one of three topics: civil disobedience, equality and women." With that he took out some papers, possibly for grading, and looked up from behind his glasses. "Any questions?"

He nodded at a figure behind Angelica. "Yes?"

It was a wiry guy, pale and skinny, with greasy hair that he had combed back in an attempt to look stylish. "What do women have to do with politics?"

Angelica bristled at the comment. _What era was this guy living in?_

"For you information," she blurted. "Several women have been the center of politics. Margaret Thatcher, Queen Elizabeth, Catherine the Great, just to name a few. All great political leaders, _all women._ " She glared at the boy, who only gave her an indignant look in return. "Not to mention that a woman gave birth to every single political leader in history." The class was silent. Angelica could feel her face heating up. _Damn it. They probably think I'm some kind of rabid feminist._

"Well said, Miss…?" Well, at least Washington looked impressed.

"Schuyler. Angelica Schuyler, sir." Angelica smiled lightly.

"Yes, thank you," he said, actually meaning it. He glanced at his roster. Apparently, the ill-informed student went by the name of Charles Lee. "Mr. Lee?" he barked.

"Sir?" He looked nervous, and rightfully so. There was nothing Washington hated more than stupid questions.

"If you have a question, do think about whether it needs to be asked." With that, Washington began filing through his work. "Class dismissed."

Students shuffled out of the classroom, a mass of noise and laughter. Angelica glanced at Washington. If he was annoyed by the noise, it didn't show.

A long, slow clap pierced the air. "Atta girl," Jefferson smiled, a lopsided grin that on anybody else, Angelica would've found adorable. But this was Jefferson, so she was ninety percent sure he was being sarcastic.

"I agree with that guy," Alex joined in. "You killed it." On Alex, that grin was cute. Very cute.

"Thanks," she smiled.

Jefferson frowned at the newcomer. "And who are you?" Angelica frowned. Sure, Thomas was a jerk to her, but he normally went out of his way to charm everyone else and succeeded, though she couldn't imagine how. With Alex though, he was colder than Antarctica.

If Alex was put off by his attitude, it didn't show. "Alexander Hamilton, at your service." He stuck out his hand.

Jefferson didn't shake it. Instead, he just nodded and ignored the gesture entirely. "See ya, Angelica."

Angelica rolled her eyes. _Southern hospitality, my ass._ "Sorry about him, he's a bit of a bitch."

"All the time?"

"No, you're just special." Angelica packed her bags, and Alex followed suit, one hand laid cautiously on his bag at all times.

"What's with the bag?"

He glanced at her, brows crinkled slightly.

"You treat it like your child." He did, patting it every few seconds and cautiously inspecting it for holes. That's probably how it looked so good, even though it Angelica was certain that it was older than dirt. The leather was worn, till it was the slightest shade of brown.

"It was the last thing my mom ever gave to me so…"

"What happened to her?"

"She's dead. A fever. A long time ago." He sounded bitter, almost resentful and Angelica quickly realized that she was tiptoeing on the edge of a whole lot of childhood trauma. It was a dickish move to even bring that up. _What was I thinking?_

"Want to hit up Caribou Castle with me?" Angelica winced at the tactless attempt at a distraction, but she couldn't just leave him to brood. It was hardly healthy.

Alex jerked his head up in surprise. A smile slowly spread across his face. "I have an employee's discount," he piped. Angelica smiled. She could handle a happy Alex. Even though she'd just met him, she had a feeling that brooding wasn't common for him.

"I guess you're paying then."

Alexander just winked in reply.


	5. Chapter 5

Peggy usually hated the first day of school, but she hated this first day more than most. For her application into the creative writing program, she had written a short story. Nothing she hadn't done before, but this time, some unseen board judged it, and by extension, her. By some miracle, it had landed her a spot in the program, but she wasn't the only one. At least fifty other writers would be waiting in that classroom, prolific minds that were probably more skilled than her in every way.

Her hand hovered over the door. She was still in the hallway. If she skipped today, no one would ever know. Except for the teacher, who would probably hate her for it.

Chin up Peggy, she told herself. It might be fun!

She opened the door, and stared in dismay at the nearly full classroom. It was twenty minutes before class, and somehow she was the last one in. Peggy glanced around, looking for an empty chair, preferably in the back, but was only greeted with rows and rows of curious eyes, all asking why she was just standing there.

"Hello there." The teacher smiled kindly. At least she wasn't mocking Peggy, but this was almost worse. If the class wasn't watching her before, they were now.

"Hi."

"Can I help you?"

"Well, I'm looking for a seat."

"There's one right there." The teacher pointed at an empty desk in the front row, right in the center of the row. Peggy smiled politely and sat down, but inwardly she was dying. She could hear the class begin whispering as soon as she sat down, probably calling her a teacher's pet.

"Maybe she's in the wrong class," a girl whispered.

"I wish," Peggy muttered.

* * *

Maria glanced at the girl next to her and rolled her eyes. How vanilla could one girl be? She dressed like a total preacher's kid, with a light purple dress that went all the way to her knees, and a small cardigan to cover up her shoulders. Because God forbid if she showed a little skin. Maria was willing to bet that she was terrified of anything that even looked like lace. The only wild thing about her was her hair. It was thick and curly and black and really similar to her own, except Maria wore it down and this girl tried to tame it into a bun. Strands still stuck out here and there, despite the bobby pins stabbed into her hair.

The girl reached into her book bag and removed a cute notebook, with light blue and white stripes and gold binding. And matching pencils. Christ, she's neat. By some miracle, all her pencils were perfectly sharpened, but the length told Maria that they were far from new. Either she's a witch, or she really likes her pencils.

"Hey." Maria nudged her shoulder. "Is that your writing notebook?"

The girl placed a protective hand on it. "Maybe."

Maria laughed at her nervousness. "You don't have to be so shy. Every writer has one." She gestured at a faded leather journal on her desk. She'd bought it at a Wiccan store back in high school. At first it was for "spells", but Maria found that plain writing was a lot more relaxing, though no less magical.

The girl's eyes widened. "Is that a pentagram?"

Maria nodded.

The girl didn't say anything, but ever so slightly slid her chair away from Maria. Yup, total PK.

* * *

Martha Washington smiled at her students. She'd personally read through every single story and could safely say this was the most talented class she'd had to date. Still, they were rough around the edges, a little crude. It was her job, as a teacher, to mold and shape them into astounding writers. "Hello class. I am Mrs. Washington, and I'll be teaching Intro to Creative Writing. Don't expect a lot of reading, just writing and criticism. Poetry, prose, we'll hit it all, but first you'll be assigned a writing partner." Martha waited for the class to quiet down. She knew that partners, at least for writing, were uncommon. Authors, at least aspiring ones, were a lot like singers: they preferred to go solo.

"When I call your names, please come down to my desk for a mini-conference." Martha glanced at her list. "Maria Lewis and Margaret Schuyler?"

The two girls stood up, and Martha noted that though they looked very similar, they were very different people. One of them strode confidently, proud, with her chin held high and the other was far more polite. This is going to be interesting.

"Margaret?"

The girl in the purple dress raised a hand in greeting. "I go by Peggy, ma'am."

Martha smiled at her. It had been a long time since someone had called her "ma'am", and she had to admit, it felt nice.

"Maria?"

"The one and only."

Either this pair was going to be amazing, or they'd kill each other in the first week. "Do you want to know why I paired you with each other?"

They glanced at each other and nodded.

"Peggy, you write well, but it's not imaginative. Your characters aren't as deep as they could be, and their interactions aren't the best. Despite this, you're writing is astoundingly lyrical and displays a lot of potential. Maria, you have the opposite problem. Your characters are creative, and the dialogue is splendid, but you need to slow down. A bit of imagery never killed anyone."

Martha smiled at them. "In layman's terms, you're too safe, and you're too wild." If it went as planned, they'd be better writers at the end of it. Besides, Martha always enjoyed a bit of drama. It made life interesting. "Good luck," she smiled, before glancing at her list. "Abigail Adams and Carlos Dabenoir?"

* * *

Angelica groaned. Her debate was in a week, and so far she had zero ideas. She flipped through Antigone, brain trying to dissect some kind of thesis from it, but she was too restless. She wanted to go out, party, have some fun. Not sit in her room all day. Maybe Alex is up for another coffee date. She smiled dreamily. Alex. Alexander Hamilton was smart, no doubt, but that wasn't what drew her to him. It was his restless energy, his tireless ambition. Not to mention his eyes, or his sly smiles. Angelica wouldn't say she had a crush on him, but-

Ping! Angelica glanced at her phone.

QueenE: ANGELICA! I MET A BOY!

Angelica chuckled. Eliza had always been very prone to instant crushes, and it always brought joy to Angelica's heart to see her so love-struck. Besides, her sister's love life was far more interesting than the unfortunate adventures of Antigone. She closed the book and lounged on her bed, curious and intrigued.

AngelCake: Oh la la! Do tell!

QueenE: well, he's really cute and smart and oh my god his eyes are just to die for and he has a really sexy accent and speaks French and ANGELICA HE'S IN OUR BUILDING!

AngelCake: Really?

QueenE: HE JUST WALKED INTO THE LIBRARY! WHAT DO I DO?

Angelica could imagine her hiding among the bookshelves, trying to figure out what to say.

AngelCake: Just ask him for a book recommendation. If he's smart he'll give you a good one.

Angelica wouldn't call herself a love expert, but she was adept at the art of flirting. It was her way of testing a guy, seeing if he had the wits to keep up with her. So far, no one had passed, save for Alex. She smiled to herself, remembering the coffee date they'd had a few hours before. He was funny, sweet, intelligent, and his accent gave his words a very attractive lilt and wait a minute.

AngelCake: What's his name?

QueenE: Alexander. Cute right?

Dammit.


End file.
